Brothers in Wand and Soul
by Peifmaster
Summary: Harry Potter has, over various dimensions, destroyed countless horcruxes and absorbed a few. But what would happen if he decided to cooperate with one? Non-slash, pairings later to avoid spoilers. Rating will raise later. -a fanfic inspired by Nemesis13 and theaceoffire, with my own twist on things.
1. Chapter 1: Of Beatings and Butterflies

**AN:** This story owes much of its inception to two of my favorite authors, Nemesis13 and theaceoffire. A brief shout out to the both of them for their amazing stories. Without further ado,

Obligatory disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. I'd have written the entire thing differently if I did.

* * *

Chapter 1- Of Beatings and Butterflies

Often times the smallest of actions can have the greatest of consequences, and a single drop of water will cause ripples in the waters of life; ripples which in turn bring change in giant waves.

Such a ripple could be caused by an old man in horridly colorful robes disliking the number fourteen, as that was the age his young sister died at. Thusly, when his deluminator winked out fourteen lamp posts on a quiet street in Surrey, he felt compelled to do one more.

Down the street, Mr. and Mrs. Bent were just laying down to bed, after staying up rather late watching the telly together. As Mr. Bent climbed into bed, the fifteenth and last lamp post on the street winked out, and along with it the little remaining light filtering in through the window disappeared. Suddenly robbed of vision, Mr. Bent caught his foot on the edge of the bed frame, sending him sprawling onto the bed. His forehead bounced off of his wife's thigh, leaving a small bruise. After Mr. Bent spent time diligently kissing it to make it feel better, the Bents stayed up for several more hours than they had planned to that night.

Approximately nine months later, young Andrew Bent was born, and the local school would have one more student to enroll in the upcoming years. He led an average childhood, and nothing of note happened until one day in first grade, where he found himself at the end of the lunch line in front of a thin, black haired boy. The boy seemed anxious, constantly glancing around with his eyes while keeping his head lowered. Andrew had just grabbed his tray, leaving the boy with messy black hair as the last one to get his food. The other boy had just picked up the last tray of food when a large boy who could only be described as a baby whale marched up and stole his food before shoving him to the ground, claiming he was a growing boy and needed it more than a freak like him did. Andrew watched as the boy picked himself up and walked out of the cafeteria.

The boy, having left the cafeteria behind, headed down the hall towards his classroom, as he now had nothing to do during lunch since he had no food to eat. He was about to walk past the library when he suddenly decided to go in and find a book to read. He honestly hadn't had access to many before, and decided that he shouldn't waste the opportunity given to him by his obese cousin. The end of lunch saw the boy leaving the library without a book, though he had remembered where it was on the shelf so he could finish it later. The next few years saw the boy in the library often, using it to escape from the sight of his cousin and his gang. He read anything he could find, from history and literature to mathematics and fantasy stories. He simply read because he had nothing better to do. While he had no clear favorite topic, he did seem to read more books about science and the solar system than he did any other subject.

As for Andrew, he rarely saw the scrawny kid outside of the bus ride to and from school. He had been surprised that the kid rode the same bus, but considering how he seemed to blend into the background unless the miniature whale was nearby, he could see why he had never noticed him before. During his summer after fourth grade, his father took him to the zoo, and he happened to spot the self-same whale and messy haired boy while he was there. His father ended up talking to the father of the whale/child, and it turned out that they were acquaintances of the same people in Mr. Bent's line of work and lived just down the street from one another. The next month saw them spending a few nights every week at the local pub discussing business and life in general.

One night at the end of July, the father of the whale/child, who himself looked even more like a whale, had one too many drinks with his friend Mr. Bent. After being driven home and thanking the man profusely, he stumbled his way up to his house's front stoop. After slamming the door and causing a ruckus as he took off his boots, he called his freak of a nephew to come clean up the mud on the hall floor. As he hung his keys by the door, he realized that his company car was still at the pub, and he would need his wife to drop him off to get it tomorrow. He was suddenly furious to have to waste the time doing so, and his usual target for his frustrations was right in front of him. His alcohol addled mind never registered when it was that the small form in front of him had stopped crying out, only that it was now simply whimpering and moaning piteously. When his rage was spent, he roughly grabbed the limp body by the neck and threw it into the cupboard under the stairs, where the broken and bloodied boy landed on his bed in a heap.

If Vernon hadn't been drunk, he would never have beaten his nephew as badly as he had just done. If he hadn't met his recent friend Mr. Bent then he wouldn't have been drunk that night. If Andrew hadn't been born as a result of a bruised thigh because of a lamp-post going out, a messy haired boy would not have spent his childhood in the library. Nor would Andrew's father have met Mr. Dursley. If a man in horribly colored robes didn't fear the number fourteen, none of those events would have come to pass. But unfortunately for the bearded old man and a great many other people, he was indeed afraid of that number, and the events did occur.


	2. Chapter 2: A Meeting of the Minds

Obligatory disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. I'd have written the entire thing differently if I did.

* * *

Chapter 2- A Meeting of the Minds

The first thing Harry noticed when he opened his eyes was that the pain had stopped. His chest no longer felt like it was in a vice clamp, and he could move his limbs without the accompanying sensation of muscles rubbing over broken bones. After he came to terms with the fact that he was indeed not in excruciating pain, he noticed that all around him was a vast black expanse. He idly wondered if this was what outer-space looked like.

"I think it would be safe to say that this is as close to looking like outer-space as your mind could make it."

Harry whipped his head around to look at the figure that had just spoken. Speaking shouldn't be possible in space. Come to think of it, neither should breathing; and yet his head hadn't exploded from the pressure vacuum yet. His raised eyebrow was the sign for the figure to explain.

"You're indeed correct, if this was space, then we'd be dead. But it's not. We're actually in your mind. That's why I can hear what you're thinking."

Deciding it was weird to hold a one voiced conversation like this, Harry decided to get a few questions off his chest. "So, you and I are in my mind. Why? And who exactly are you anyway?"

"To answer that, I first have a few things to tell you," the man replied. "First, I have bad news, good news, worse news, and better news."

Harry had only a little trouble following that, as he wasn't sure if the voice in his head was crazy or simply trying for humor. Since the man had prominent aristocratic features and was dressed in a semi-casual business suit, Harry was more inclined to believe he was not crazy, or at least not more than a little. This prompted Harry to look down at what he himself was wearing, and he scowled as he saw the worn and bloodstained clothes he wore. He idly wished for some cleaner clothes, and his clothes suddenly morphed into a lean pair of jeans with a t-shirt, both clean and looking much better than the tattered things they were before. Deciding that he liked being inside his own head, downright useful it was, he looked back at the other man. "I'm assuming they're in that order for a reason?" he asked with his brow raised again.

"Correct! Excellent, that makes things easier if you can follow along. The first piece of bad news is that you're currently dying." He waited for the shouts of denial, the crying out that he didn't want to die. He never got it. "Aren't you going to start shouting that you don't want to die? Aren't you afraid of death?"

Harry stood in thought for a moment, then realized that he felt better than he had in as long as he could remember. "Not particularly. I mean, I wasn't expecting to die yet but honestly this is the most pain free and relaxed I've ever felt, so I can't say I really mind."

The man had a shocked and confused look in his face, so Harry attempted to explain. He figured that since they were in his mind and the man could hear his thoughts, thinking about memories of growing up with the Dursleys should suffice.

The brief movie of Harry's life left the man with his mouth hanging open. He had thought that HIS life growing up was bad, but even he couldn't deny that the boy in front of him had lived through a worse hell than he had growing up. He sat down rather roughly, wondering how this affected things. It made some things easier by far, but it really made manipulating the boy a rather hard task if he didn't mind dying. And to be honest, he felt a small sense of connection with the boy. They both went through a similar childhood, and he felt a modicum of respect for that. He needed a new plan, for he couldn't let the boy die because it would take him along with, and while the boy might not be afraid of death, he himself wasn't ready for it yet.

"So, you said you had good news next?"

At Harry's words, the man's head snapped up and he came to a conclusion on how to deal with this situation. "Yes, I did, but what you've shown me has caused me to have to change a few things in how I explain this situation. I'll be blunt: I'm the remnants of a shredded piece of a soul that's embedded behind the scar on your forehead. When you die, it'll take me with you. Despite being a disembodied soul, I really don't want to die just yet. I can help you stop yourself from dying, but here's where my plans changed. I was originally going to trick you into allowing me to take over your body, but that would have taken a significant amount of time and was very risky to me. But having seen your life so far, I feel an odd sense of camaraderie with you. While my childhood wasn't nearly as horrible as yours, I had a similar upbringing. I figure instead of us both dying or me risking it all by attempting to take over, maybe there's a chance we could work together? Cohabitate the same space, me paying rent or something for living in your head?

While the idea of someone living inside his head was at the same time both disturbing and intriguing, Harry decided to wait before agreeing to anything. "We'll discuss that later, but for now, what were the other things you were going to tell me?"

"Right, right," the man said. "Well, as I said, the good news is that I can save you from dying. You're a wizard, a member of an entire secret world living hidden from the non-wizard population. Magic is real, and it's the reason that we're in this situation." Harry looked skeptical, but if he could accept the fact that a disembodied soul was living in his head, it wasn't so difficult to accept magic as existing as well. Having paused to gauge Harry's reaction, the man continued. "The bad news is that I'm technically the one responsible for your parents' deaths. The man that killed your parents turned his sights to you, and somehow the spell he cast to try and kill you backfired, killing him instead."

Harry, still not totally convinced this wasn't some very messed up dream, was taking things with a grain of salt. "Still, you've yet to explain how you ended up in my head, or why I should even trust you in the first place if you claiming to be responsible for my parents' deaths is true."

"That leads us to the fourth bit of news. While I'm a shard of the soul of the one who attacked you, at the same time I'm not him. He had used soul magics to try and become immortal, and in doing so his soul became unstable. When his curse rebounded and hit him, a piece of his already weakened soul split off, which was me. But the process was imperfect, as the spell was never meant to hit a soul as it was splitting. The fragment that contained me was shredded and the body of the man was destroyed. Much of what made me, him, into the evil being he was ended up being destroyed or lost during the process. At this point, I'm more of a collection of knowledge with a base personality. I don't have any goals or desires, other than a wish not to die and a strong predilection to manipulating all those around me."

Harry was more or less just going along with things, he really didn't care at this point. Whether it was a dream or not, all that mattered is that he wasn't in pain. 'What could it hurt?' he thought. 'It's not like I have anything to lose.'

"Alright, say I work with you. What do I get out of it? You mentioned something about rent. You can't exactly pay me money if you're inside my head."

Here, the man got a feral grin. "Simple, I help you become the strongest wizard in the country, if not the majority of Europe. I have decades of knowledge and experience, and I can teach you and guide you so that you never have to be powerless again. No more cupboards, no more beatings, no more Dursleys."

That sounded like a great trade for Harry. He would be free of his old life and all he had to do was let someone ride around in his head, a minor concession all things considered. "You've got a deal. Now, what do we have to do so that we don't die?"

The man smiled. While not ideal, this situation was definitely better than being dead, and it could prove interesting. "First thing we need to do is find your magical core. It's what fuels your magic." With that, the scene changed, and the darkness seemed to fade near a large sphere that suddenly appeared nearby. Harry had no idea how to travel through his mindscape, but his new tenant did. When they came near the sphere, it was only dimly lit, looking like a dying ember. "Your core is currently overtaxing itself to keep you alive. It's using raw magic to try and repair and power your body, while also fighting off the influence of my presence in your head. I'm still connected to Voldemort, the man who tried to kill you, and your magic is shielding you from that connection, but it's draining on your already stressed core. What you need to do is focus your magic, move the shield out from between us and instead between me and the connection. Then you can forcefully sever the connection. While it's normally not possible to break a mental connection such as this, you and I can do it because technically I'm the other side of the connection, despite being on both ends. Thus, with both sides mutually agreeing, we can sever the connection. The only downside is that it will instead cause me to latch onto your core instead of Voldemort's. As a disembodied soul, I lack a functioning magical core. But the mount you save by not needing to shield against me is greater than the amount draining through our new connection. Your magic would bleed a little power into me to keep me alive, while it will allow me greater access to your mind and you access to mine. It's alright that you don't know how to control your magic yet. It's mostly intent based, even more so inside your own head. Just picture what you want and it'll happen."

Harry looked around for the soul shard, and instead found a glossy piece of glass that stretched alongside his core. On the other side he could just make out a smaller sphere to his, with what looked like a thick telephone line trailing out of it and off behind it. He thought hard about what he wanted, moving the shield past the shard and into the connection, then severing it. As he watched, the plane of glass moved slowly until it touched the smaller sphere, whereupon it slowly flowed over and around it, until the entire thing was on this side of the glass. Harry could suddenly feel the presence inside his head. It was noticeable, but not uncomfortable; just an awkward sensation. He watched as the glass hardened and forcefully cut off the access of the connection. While the old line shriveled up and vanished, a thinner line attached itself between the two spheres. As the glass wall vanished, the darkness started to fade as Harry's core brightened up a bit.

"Alright Harry, now that your core can actually start fixing you, you'll need to leave and sleep for a while. The energy used to maintain a mindscape such as this is normally no big deal, but your body needs all it can get to fix you as soon as it can. I'll be in touch, and when you wake up we can get started."

Harry held out his hand for the man to shake. "Thanks, and what should I call you?"

"My name's Tom," he said, taking his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you, Tom." And with that, the mindscape faded, and a broken form inside the cupboard under the stairs of Number 4 Privett Drive began to glow softly as it went to work fixing itself up.


	3. Chapter 3: Deviating from the Script

Obligatory disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. I'd have written the entire thing differently if I did.

* * *

Chapter 3- Deviating from the Script

Harry woke up inside his cupboard the next morning, feeling oddly rested and refreshed. He was starting to wonder if that dream had been real when he felt a presence in his head.

'Tom?' he called softly with his thoughts.

'Finally awake I see,' he heard in response.

Not sure if he should be happy or weirded out that what he dreamt was actually real, he decided that it really didn't matter at the moment. 'So what's our first move?'

'The first thing we need to do is get out of this prison,' Tom replied. 'Your parents were wizards, very powerful and very wealthy ones. It's a guarantee that they left at least something for you when they died. We need to get to the wizarding bank. It's located in a hidden alley that only magicals can enter.'

Before they could do anything further, Harry heard movement in the house. 'Hey Tom? Any chance you can use that magic of yours from inside my head?'

'If I had a wand and you had the energy, yes. But at the moment we're in no shape to do so. Why?'

'Because getting out of the cupboard and past Uncle Vernon will be difficult. We'll have to wait until later today for a chance.'

Tom could be heard muttering something along the lines of 'stupid ignorant muggles', and 'treat bloody house elves better'.

It seemed as if they would soon get their chance after all, as Vernon appeared to not remember beating his nephew to near death last night. The blinding headache from his hangover seemed help in that regard. He stormed downstairs and yanked open the cupboard, screaming for the freak to go make breakfast already. After watching his relatives gorge themselves, he was ordered outside to do weeding in his Aunt's roses. He weeded for a few minutes, and then after taking a quick look around to make sure nobody was watching, Harry strolled down the street away from the Dursleys and towards the park. Tom had said that while he would need a wand to do magic for now, as his core was still having issues, he could help Harry do something called apparition, which was like wizarding teleporting, as it didn't require a wand or much power, just the knowledge of how to do it. Five minutes later a small ~crack~ was heard in the park, as Harry Potter turned and vanished, only to reappear outside a dingy pub in London.

Entering The Leaky Cauldron, Harry made his way to the bar, following Tom's instructions. The barman, ironically also named Tom, led him out back and tapped an elaborate pattern on the brick wall. The wall opened up, giving Harry his jaw-dropping first look at the wizarding world. After giving him a minute to take it all in, Tom directed Harry to a giant white marble structure at the end of the alley. As he walked down the street toward the massive structure, he made sure to look at all of the stores and people around him. The people were all dressed in long flowing robes, and the shops varied from immaculate to dingy in their appearances. He didn't have long to speculate on what they might have sold as he soon arrived at his destination. Harry eyed the armor-clad creatures he passed curiously, and Tom explained to him the basics about the goblins who owned and operated Gringotts. It seemed like a poor idea to Harry to let a violent and aggressive race hold all of your money, and Tom agreed that yes, wizards were often lacking in common sense. After entering the atrium and looking around at the few lines of people waiting for tellers, Harry asked, 'So what do we do now?'

'I'm not quite sure,' Tom said. 'I'd normally demand to see my account manager, but as you are distinctly non-threatening and we also have no idea who your account manager is, I'm slightly at a loss of how to proceed.'

'Well, we could always try being polite and asking,' Harry supplied. Deciding that the idea had merit, they waited in line at the nearest teller.

"What do you want?" the goblin nearly snarled as he eyed the small, rag-dressed boy in front of him.

"Greetings, sir," Harry said, careful to keep his tone respectful but not submissive. "I wish to enquire into my account. Is it possible to speak to my account manager?"

"Your name?"

"Harry Potter."

At this, several of the patrons looked over at the youth, and scoffed at his 'identity'. He only lacked the dirt and grime, else he would have looked like a street urchin. The various customers went about their business as the goblin let out a noise that was half-way between a growl and a sigh. He hated wizards. Annoying and rude, the lot of them, even their younglings. And though this one here wasn't as rude as the rest, he was yet another who was trying to access the Potter account. He barked out an order in goblin, and a scrawny goblin stepped over to him.

"'Harry Potter' would like to speak to his account manager," the goblin sneered. "Take him to Keeper Gripclaw's office." With that the teller turned back to his ledger, ignoring the boy as he was led away.

As Harry was led into a medium sized office labeled 'Potter Accounts', he inquired to Tom why he had his own office.

'Generally speaking, the more money you have the more time the goblins devote to your account. Most major families have enough gold to warrant being assigned their own account manager to oversee their funds and investments. While not exactly foolproof, Goblins can make you lots of money in investments. They are harsh, but fair. So long as you read the fine print and don't break any of their laws, you'll be fine. They value honor and profit, but little else.'

'So while they may try and swindle me, they won't outright cheat me?' he asked.

'Correct,' Tom replied.

By that time they had reached the desk in the center of the room, and the goblin sitting there had begun to speak.

"Am I correct that you claim to be Harry Potter and wish to access your account?" He asked snidely. Harry merely nodded. At this, the Goblin pulled a small ring box out from a drawer in the desk and sat it in front of Harry. "If you are who you claim to be, then the Potter signet ring will accept you, otherwise it will kill you. Either put it on or get out, I don't have time to waste with all the people claiming to be Harry Potter."

Harry was confused, as was Tom. After a mental nod from Tom, Harry opened the box and took out the ring. "Why would people be claiming to be me?" he asked as he slid the ring onto his right ring finger.

When the ring merely resized itself to fit and the boy in front of him remained visibly not-dying, Gripclaw set down the scroll he was reading and looked closely at the boy in front of him. Speaking slowly so as to collect his thoughts, he answered, "Ever since the so-called Boy-who-lived survived the attack of and defeated the one who called himself Voldemort, young wizards claiming to be the long-hidden Harry Potter have come forth trying to claim the fame and fortune that your name brings. Most tried to fool the ring, not believing the Potters would have an artifact that would 'do something so dark', and paid dearly. But some were wise enough to drop their charade rather than try it on. To date, there have been," here he paused to look down at a tally etched into the desk, "one hundred and forty seven claimants to your name, eighty five of which perished when attempting to wear the ring now resting on your finger."

Both Harry and Tom were nonplussed. How could he be famous when he hadn't even known about the wizarding world until today? He mentioned as much to the goblin, who shrugged and replied, "There are a series of books claiming to be about your life to date, all of which claim to be true stories of your adventures."

Harry was angry, which was a first for him. He usually had to bury his emotions around the Dursleys, but now that no longer around them, he could actually afford to let his emotions go, and the lack of shield between him and Tom was letting a bit of Tom's own rage through, influencing his emotions slightly. Thusly, he clenched his teeth and balled his fists as he thought about other people making money off of him while he lived in a cupboard and starved daily. Tom made a note to deal with the book issue and find out who was behind it, but he meanwhile reminded Harry that they had a task to do here.

"I thank you for the information Keeper Gripclaw, I was unaware of that. But more to the point of why I am here, I wish to make an inquiry into my account, as to what it contains and the status of any vaults, and to see if my parents left a will."

"I can tell you that your parents did leave a will, but I cannot tell you what it says, as it has been sealed by the Ministry and has never been read." Gripclaw then picked up a ledger and turned a few pages, before setting it down and reading from a page near the middle. "As of this moment, there are two vaults in the Potter accounts. The first vault is your trust vault, which contains 1,000 galleons refilled annually. This vault is what you would normally have access to while in school before reaching your age of majority. The next vault is the main Potter vault, which contains all your current liquid assets, amounting to approximately G70,000, as well as a large collection of various jewelry, books, furniture, and artifacts owned by the Potter family. Normally you would need to be of-age and with permission from your Head of House to access it, but as you are the last of your line and wear the ring, you are now the new Lord Potter, and have full control over the accounts."

"Lord Potter?" Harry asked, wondering how he could be a lord of anything.

Gripclaw shrugged. "English Wizards prescribe to the traditions and structure of the English nobility, thus the head of any important family is referred to as Lord so-and-so and their wife is Lady such-and-such. It's merely a title created by the so-called wizard 'nobility'. One benefit that you may or may not wish to use is that you can choose to emancipate yourself. As a minor cannot be a Head of House, attaining Head of House status is considered becoming an adult in the wizarding world, and eligible for emancipation. It's a rule sometimes used by the heir of a pure-blood house to get access to their vaults to take care of the family finances. The downside is that you can be tried as an adult under wizarding law."

While Harry was wary of the judicial aspects, he wasn't too worried as he had no plans to do anything where he would need to be tried in the first place. Tom agreed, and so they would file for emancipation. Harry was curious if they would need to find a solicitor, but Tom mentioned that Gripclaw could handle it for him, for a fee of course. That led to the question how much he got paid for handling the Potter finances and of why Gripclaw was being more polite than the teller.

'It's quite simple, really,' Tom explained. 'Your account manager gets paid double his normal wages while working with you, and the pay comes from your accounts. That means not only is he earning more per hour than he was before we walked in, but Gringotts is also saving money. Hence why he doesn't mind us sitting and asking questions, because he still gets paid, and why he was so rude when he thought we were imposters, as he wasn't getting paid to deal with us until he learned you were the real deal.'

Nodding at the explanation and requesting that the emancipation documents be filed, Harry returned to his current task. "Back to my original reason for this visit, I would like to withdraw some funds from my trust vault. I assume you have a way for your customers to carry large amounts of coinage easily?"

Gripclaw pulled out a small pouch from the desk, and sat it in front of Harry. "Space expanded pouches. Holds up to five hundred galleons in weight, cost one hundred galleons each. For another fifty we can key them to you with your blood so that they can only be opened by you. They can still be stolen, but the thief will be unable to open it unless they are a powerful curse-breaker, the likes of which wouldn't need to steal your coin-purse anyway."

Harry nodded at that, and bought one pouch with security charm, after which he was handed a new vault key for his trust vault. WHen he asked about a key for the main vault, he was informed that the ring on his finger was the key. Gripclaw let them know that they could expect the emancipation to be through in a few days at most. On a whim, Tom had Harry ask who his current guardian was listed as. When they were informed it was one Albus Dumbledore, Harry was confused and Tom was furious. With Tom promising to explain later, Harry and Tom withdrew the remaining funds in his trust vault, eight hundred fifty galleons, and made arrangements to visit his vault the next day. They left the bank with money in hand, and heeded for the heart of Diagon Alley.


	4. Chapter 4: A Day out on the Town

Obligatory disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. I'd have written the entire thing differently if I did.

* * *

Chapter 4- A Day out on the Town

The shopping spree following the bank visit went about as well as could be expected when it involved a disembodied Dark Lord and an eleven year old boy. The first thing they did was stop by The Leaky Cauldron and rent a room. Harry took a refreshing hot shower, and then followed that up with a pair of sandwiches for lunch. Now clean and fed, Harry and Tom headed out into the alley. Harry noticed the date on the front of the newspaper as they passed the Daily Prophet building. It was July 31st, and Harry's eleventh birthday. Tom alerted Harry that he should expect his Hogwarts letter soon, which led into Tom's hour long description of life at Hogwarts. Harry thought some parts were just plain silly, like being sorted by a talking hat and the staircase that changed layouts while you were walking up it, but the prospect of racing around on a broom sounded interesting, even though he had never heard of quidditch before. Eventually the talk led to mention the current headmaster, Albus Dumbledore.

'So let me get this straight,' Harry finally said, 'an old man who you'd never met and who teaches at Britain's biggest magical school finds you at an orphanage and introduces you to magic, at which time you realize that you can learn to harness the power that you were using to terrorize said orphanage. You then spent seven years in which you pulled the wool over the eyes of everyone and started your path to becoming a dark lord. You returned years later as a rising dark lord and inflicted a reign of terror across magical Britain, until some combination of events led to you being destroyed and a shredded piece of your soul ending up in my head. Am I right so far?'

'Don't forget that the same old man was the 'leader of the light' and was the staunchest of my adversaries, but otherwise yes,' replied Tom.

"Okay. After that, the exact same old man, who now heads the magical school and also is an important political figure in the government that sealed my parents' will, gets appointed my guardian and sticks me with my relatives. He then leaves me to be abused for years, either never checking on me or purposely leaving me to their tender care. Said old man not only did all of that, he also is most likely the one who fiddled with my magical core?'

'Yep, correct on all accounts,' Tom replied. The last bit was a recent discovery. While Harry was taking his shower in their rented room, Tom had returned to their shared mindscape to check on the recovery of Harry's core. While Tom's previously empty sphere was now filling with a trickle of magic from Harry's core, the rate was far too low. It meant that Harry's core was still being drained fairly heavily, despite no longer healing or fueling his body. Tom had seen what the problem was, but wanted to wait until that night to explain it to Harry when he showed up in their mindscape.

Their mental discussion ended just as Madam Malkin finished up her measurements for Harry's new wardrobe. They had hit the luggage store first for a backpack, then went for clothes. When they mentioned leaving room for a growth spurt to the clerk, she informed them that the majority of the clothes used sizing charms to adjust to the appropriate size, leaving enough room for two years growth before they needed replaced. The only things that didn't resize themselves were custom work or tailored robes, neither of which Harry needed.

A trip to a healer was the next stop, and that one was a bit more difficult. There was a wizarding hospital, called St. Mungo's, but visiting there would attract attention that neither of them cared for. Instead they went to the equivalent of a clinic, a professional healer running their own shop at Diagon Alley. At first things looked like they would run smoothly, and they were able to get an appointment. But when it came time for treatment, requiring their guardian to be present was the roadblock. Since the chances of getting the Dursleys to sign off on a doctor's visit were less than zero, and a meddlesome old man who they were trying to avoid the attention of was his appointed guardian, they would need to wait for the emancipation papers to get approved before they were able to get any of the more drastic treatments Harry needed. He needed a nutrient and growth potion regimen to fix his malnourishment, and an eye-correcting treatment to fix his vision. While Harry didn't mind wearing glasses, having perfect vision and no longer being reliant on them made him extremely happy. They would need to wait for the emancipation papers to be pushed through those things, though they were still able to pick up some general healing potions and a few nutritional potions for now.

Harry's next to last stop of the day was Ollivander's, so he could get his wand. An hour later he was finally matched to a holly and Phoenix feather wand, one which shared a core with Tom's old wand, now Voldemort's. Harry and Tom were unsure if this was a coincidence or a result of Tom riding around in his head, but they didn't have a way to find out and filed that tidbit away for later. After a light dinner at The Leaky Cauldron, Harry retired to the room he had rented.

The next morning, Harry and Tom hit a few more stores that they had added to their list. Tom had first taught Harry how to cast a basic glamour charm, one normally not taught until well into his education, but with Tom's knowledge and Harry's newly rested core they managed to pull it off within a few tries. Harry would temporarily look slightly taller and a few years older. Knockturn Alley was an experience for Harry, but Tom guided him through their visit. A short trip to a rather seedy wand store saw Harry with a backup wand of yew with griffin feather, rather rare and expensive materials. With his new wand he was even able to remove the Ministry tracking charms placed on his wand from Ollivander's, with Tom's help of course. Two illegal, invisible, anti-theft wand holsters later, and they headed for Flourish and Blotts.

Several books on basic magics taught at Hogwarts and a few on wizarding politics were added to their growing inventory. While Tom had been through Hogwarts before, it had been at least two decades ago and many things could have changed since then. The same with current Wizengamot, as an entire decade of laws had been passed while Tom was indisposed. To top it all off, the same way his personality was altered when the soul shard was shredded, several holes existed in Tom's knowledge from before that night. There were no major losses as far as they could tell, but there were several spells that Tom knew were useful that he could no longer remember how to cast, because he no longer had full knowledge about some of the wand movements or incantations. While annoying, most of these memory blanks would easily be filled when Harry went to Hogwarts. It was a given that he was going, as they had no other options at the moment. Before they left, Harry asked the clerk about the Boy-Who-Lived books, saying they were a birthday present for his younger sibling. After being directed to an entire bookshelf filled with atrociously alliterated fiction, Harry bought one of each book. Tom would keep an eye out for a solicitor on their way to Gringotts. Hopefully they could find some solution to the problem.

Upon arriving at Gringotts, Harry asked for account manager Gripclaw, mentioning he was following up on yesterday's visit. The teller gave Harry a once over look, but didn't say anything in response. He merely summoned a runner to guide him to Gripclaw. After they entered the Potter Accounts offie, Tom waited until the runner had left to drop the glamour. Gripclaw didn't seem surprised to see Harry standing where a moment ago had been another figure, and that only onfirmed for Harry that Tom's mentioning of wards monitoring for glamours was true.

"Well met, Account Manager Gripclaw," Harry said with a short bow. Tomhadnt had time to teach him much yet, but the first lessons were on pure-blood and goblin protocol. Gripclaw seemed mildly shocked for a moment, but it was a fleeting thing. "I have some business I wish to get done before the trip to my vault. May we begin?"

Gripclaw nodded and motioned for Harry to sit. "So, what business do you need taken care of Mr. Potter?"

Harry and Tom had spent a while making a list of things they needed to do, and several involved the Potter finances. "I require an audit of my accounts. It occurred to me that my trust vault is refiled annually, my magical guardian was someone unknown to me, and I was never in possession of my key. I noticed that most wizards merely present their key and are escorted to their vaults, and fear that someone may have taken money from me illicitly. Whether or not the audit uncovers anything suspicious, I wish to invalidate all keys save the one currently in my possession."

Gripclaw could empathize with the young man in front of him. Goblins valued honor and profit, and for someone to steal one's money out from beneath you would infuriate any goblin. "I can start the audit as soon as we are done here, but the keys will be an issue. There is no way to selectively deactivate keys to a vault. As your family's main vault is accessed by your signet ring, that vault will be fine. Your trust vault though, currently has three active keys," the goblin said as he looked down at a paper on his desk. "One is registered to your, for the moment, magical guardian, Albus Dumbledore. Another is registered to your father James Potter, but the key is unaccounted for. The third is the one you received yesterday. To remove access to the other keys, we will need to re-key the vault, which will invalidate all current keys, and will cost one hundred galleons. This includes the price of a new key, while ll additional keys will cost another fifty galleons each. These expenses will be pulled from the main vault as you emptied the trust vault yesterday. Is that acceptable?"

"Very much so, Account Manager Gripclaw. While the vault is being re-keyed, I would like to make the trip we had planned to my family's main vault." Gripclaw nodded, and made out an order for the handling of the trust vault, then called two runners; one to carry the orders to the locksmiths, another to take Harry to his vault.

After riding a minecart, Harry was escorted to the door of the main Potter vault, which opened when the top of the Potter signet ring was fitted into an indentation in the center of the door. While incredibly impressive with the mountains of gold and gems and the displays full of jewelry, the real treasures were the trunk with secret compartments and the books on rare or advanced magics. The trunk looked the same as a standard school trunk, but had inlaid feather light and space expansion runes. The trunk could only be opened by those keyed in, similar in manner to the moneybag he had bought the day before from Gripclaw. After transferring his purchases from his backpack to his new trunk he added a few books from the shelves that Tom had picked. Several were simply class textbooks for the upper years of Hogwarts, useful for a head start, but several others were on blood magic. These were because of the revelations about his core that Tom showed to Harry the previous night.

 _flashback_

Harry opened his eyes to find himself in his mindscape again. He had just lain down in his rented room when he drifted off to sleep. The fact that he was here again didn't surprise him. What did was how it was no longer pitch black and dark. The background had taken on a grey appearance and there was a strong but muted light coming from his core. In the new light, he could see that the two cores were different colors, Tom's a black with green tint and his green with black tint.

'Must be some kind of bleed-over,' he mused, looking at the pipe-like connection between the cores. Tom had explained that his current magical core was simply a shell formed by his soul, able to hold magic but not renew it. He relied on a small amount of Harry's magic to power it. Turning, he saw Tom standing next to him, and could finally get a good view of his face. He had black hair and black eyes with faint red rings around them, and a refined, aristocratic looking face. While his hair was the same length as Harry's it laid flat and was much neater than Harry's bird's nest.

While Harry was busy taking in Tom's appearance, Tom was staring intently at the faint red pattern on the surface of Harry's core. It was like a giant cross-hash pattern had been drawn on it. It looked almost like a net made of ropes, trailing down below his core to a flat red disk that seemed to just be floating there.

Harry eventually followed Tom's eyes and found himself looking at the same thing. "So what exactly is that?" He asked.

"That's the core binding I found this morning. I'd guess that the red lines all over your core are blood bindings, but I can't figure out what the disc is," Tom said.

"Looks kinda like a mini black hole, but red," Harry noted while looking at the disc. At this, Tom's brows shot up and his eyes widened.

"You're absolutely right Harry, from the appearance that's almost exactly what we're looking at. The bindings would contain your core and drain your magic into the siphon below your core, but where could it be going?" he wondered aloud. "Not only are vampiric blood bindings, which are what this would appear to be, highly illegal, who would have been powerful enough and near enough to place them on you?"

"Well, that Dumbledore guy seems like the most likely candidate. Between sticking me with the Dursleys and being my guardian, he'd have more than enough opportunity. But what's this about vampiric blood bindings?" Harry asked with one eyebrow raised. Those things sounded pretty nasty.

"Blood magic is frowned upon but common enough. The difference with normal blood magic is that it is used to 'key' someone into something, while vampiric blood bindings were commonly used as punishment for criminals ages ago. They literally suck the magic out of your core, hence the vampiric part. It's a miracle that you're even alive with what you went through and that your magic kept you going, even more so that it was constantly being drained while doing so. You must have both a massive recovery rate and a substantial magical reserve. I dare say you'll be nigh unstoppable when you're fully trained. Of course, we have to get these bindings off first."

Harry's mind was still hanging around the part about draining his core. "So what exactly is my core being drained into?"

"That's simple enough. It's either draining into the person who cast the bindings, which would be dangerous and could kill them if the bindings ever failed, or they're powering a set of blood wards. Blood wards are different from normal defensive wards as their power isn't set at a specific level, rather they are based upon the person they are tied to. The longer you spend on average in the wards, the stronger they are, but the more they drain your magic. I wouldn't be surprised if we found a set of those wards around your former residence."

"So what do we do about them?" Harry asked. He really didn't want to continue letting someone drain his power, especially considering that he just got access to it.

"To get them removed we'll need to first find out just what type of ward they are, and how they are set up. The same result can be reached by several different methods, and we'll need to figure out exactly what we're undoing. So, research and then finding a curse-breaker to remove it. It won't be any time soon though, so don't worry about it for now."

 _end flashback_

Having packed up their selections and placed the new and now shrunken trunk into his pocket, Harry was led back out the way he entered. One short minecart ride later, and they were back led back to Gripclaw's office. Harry was provided a new key, and they then headed out of the bank. Tom convinced Harry to buy an owl, claiming that while snakes were wonderful familiars, owls were more useful, so Harry headed into Eeylop's Owl Emporium. Having mentioned the python incident at the zoo to Tom, the two were still debating whether Harry should get a snake too, but he could get one later, if at all.

After looking over the majority of the store, a pure white owl caught Harry's eyes. Her eyes practically screamed intelligence, and she cocked her head to said side as if to say 'Well, what are you waiting for? Let me out of this cage already'. A short few minutes later, an owl perch, food and water dishes, and several packages of owl treats had been added to the trunks inventory, and Harry left the store with the newly christened Hedwig on his shoulder. The name had been up for debate, but after throwing about several options Tom had picked Hedwig from his memories of a book he had read ages ago. She had instantly perked up at the name, and so it was decided.

The day's activities seemed to have taken longer than they had though, because the sun was setting by the time they returned to The Leaky Cauldron. A short dinner was had, with Hedwig having part of Harry's sandwich. After returning to their rented room, the three companions were just about to head off to sleep when a small brown owl arrived, carrying a letter addressed to Harry.

#To: Harry James Potter  
#Room 5, The Leaky Cauldron  
#Diagon Alley, London

#From: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry


	5. Chapter 5: Heading to Hogwarts

Obligatory disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. I'd have written the entire thing differently if I did.

* * *

Chapter 5- Heading to Hogwarts

While Harry knew to expect the letter, as Tom had told him about it, it was still a shock seeing that it was addressed to his rented room instead of Privett Drive.

'Tom,' Harry softly called, 'whoever sent this letter seems to know where I am, despite the fact they shouldn't. Any particular reason for that?'

'The student register that Hogwarts uses is an enchanted book which records the names of all the students set to enroll each September,' he responded, 'and this book is used to automatically send the enrollment letters. The book uses the same type of magic as mail-owls, as long as the recipient is known and accessible, the letter will arrive at the right location.'

'So that's the only reason they know where I am? They're not tracking me or anything?'

That gave Tom a worried thought. 'With the work that the old man went through for that core binding, I wouldn't put it past him at this point. So no, I wouldn't be surprised if the blood ward that we suspect is hooked up to your core has a tracking charm embedded. That means that Dumbledore probably knows we're in Diagon, or he would if he checked recently. We'll need to put up with the Dursleys for the rest of the month, as we don't want to let him know that you're self-sufficient now.'

Harry sighed dejectedly. He had thought he was done with the Dursleys, but it seemed that he had spoken too soon and fate was sending him back. If it took a bit more time to rid himself of them for good, then he could put up with that.

Remembering what brought this conversation up in the first place, Harry opened the letter and gave it a quick read. The letter contained nothing of much importance, just a supplies list and directions to platform 9 ¾. There were only a few things on the list that Harry didn't already have, and they would get those tomorrow morning. With the letter dealt with, it was off to sleep.

* * *

Vernon Dursley was extremely cross. His no-good freak of a nephew had up and left without so much as a by-your-leave. There was two days' worth of chores that needed done, and he sure as hell wasn't going to be the one to do them. Vernon sat and watched the news while Petunia worked in the kitchen, grumbling about the weeds in her rosebushes whenever she glanced out the window, while Dudley sat at the table whining about his lunch not being ready. The doorbell going off just upset Vernon more; he wasn't having a pleasant morning and if it was another salesperson at the door then he'd give them a piece of his mind.

Seeing his nephew at the door just set of the fuse that had been slowly burning all morning. He ripped the door open and grabbed his nephew by his collar, yanking him inside before slamming the door closed. He had just started his rant with a "You good for nothing freak" when he suddenly couldn't move a muscle. When petunia walked into the room after hearing the shouting and saw her nephew pointing a thin stick at her husband, she paled dramatically.

Turning to her, Harry said in a flat tone, "Hello Aunt Petunia, we need to talk. I'm taking Uncle Vernon into the front room, meet us there with Dudley." With that, he gave his wand a flick and Vernon floated behind him and onto the couch. He had gone from raging mad to having a cold feeling in his gut. Something had changed with his nephew, and it most likely had to do with that freakishness of his, but at the moment he was too scared by how helpless he was to be angry. When a deathly pale Petunia escorted Dudley into the room, Dudley was curious why his father wasn't yelling at the freak. His mom made him sit down on the couch next his unmoving father. It was then that harry undid the petrifying charm on his uncle.

"I'll get straight to the point. As you can obviously tell, the situation of my treatment in this house has changed. Aunt Petunia, it appears you have some idea of what's going on?" Harry asked. His aunt gave a single nod. "Very well then. The other day I received my letter, you also appear to know what that means. As much as I would be glad to walk out the door and never see any of you ever again, I need to stay here for the month. The man who left me with you most likely has ways to find me, and I don't want him suspicious of me at the moment. Therefore, I have an offer to make. In return for staying here for the month, I will continue some of my chores, such as cleaning, weeding, and cooking. However, you will not leave me the scraps from your meals; I will be eating a full meal that I will make along with yours. You will also leave me alone other than at meal times. This is not up for debate, nor will I allow you to treat me as you have been. Understood?" He got wary nods from Vernon and Petunia, but Dudley just looked confused.

Vernon had half a mind to jump up and clobber the runt over the head, but even his legendary fiery temper couldn't come close to alleviating the chill down his spine from when his nephew stopped him cold with a simple hand motion. Vernon rarely needed to use his self-preservation instinct, but right now it was screaming at him. He despised those freaks, his nephew included, but he could grudgingly respect the power the boy wielded over him. So while he still wanted to wring the boy's neck, he would refrain from further antagonizing him. His wife seemed to be of the same opinion: keep their heads down and hope he was gone in a month. Now all he needed to do was explain the new facts of life to Dudley.

Tom's guidance was the only thing that got Harry through that confrontation, and had he not been so good at controlling his emotions after the years with the Dursleys, Harry's bluff may or not have worked tonight. Sure, he could easily dissuade his relatives from openly antagonizing him, but even with Tom looking out for him, there were sure to be moments when Vernon would be able to get the drop on him. Using just the right amount of threat, compromise, and fear of the unknown, Harry would fain some breathing room for the month. Leaving his aunt and uncle to explain things to his cousin, Harry walked upstairs to the spare bedroom. Its only occupants were the mountains of Dudley's old and broken toys. A few quick cleaning charms, and the room was tidy and Dudley's toys were piled inside the closet. Harry tiredly collapsed on the bed. Just the few spells he used had worn him out. It would be a while before he was free from the effects of his upbringing, and though he had access to Tom's vast magical knowledge, Harry's core was still weak. Then again, Tom had also guided him through how to set up a magic-output notice-me-not ward around Privett Drive, one which would specifically prevent any magic he used from being detected. While not enough to hide especially large releases of magic, it was more than enough to hide what he had done so far from the Ministry's magic sensors. The energy expended casting that ward was not negligible, and definitely contributed to his current state.

Harry heard a soft tapping from the window, and got up to let Hedwig in. He removed his trunk from his pocket and unshrunk it, taking out the owl perch and placing it in the corner near his bed. Leaving the trunk at the foot of the bed, Harry laid down with a first year charms book and began to read through it.

Harry spent most of the afternoon in his new room reading. Eventually he went downstairs to the kitchen, made dinner, and sat at the table next to the fidgeting Dursleys. After dinner, he cleaned the dishes and returned to his room. While Harry was wary of leaving his guard down around the Dursleys, he was confident that his aunt would manage to explain enough to keep his uncle afraid of him, as they didn't know just what he could and couldn't do. Hedwig glided over and sat on the headboard of the bed. The position she sat in looked as if she was standing guard over him. With a small grin as he figured that was exactly what she intended, Harry allowed himself to slip off to sleep.

Miles away in a castle in Scotland, and old man with a long white beard also settled down to sleep. He had been keeping a watchful eye on his tracking devices for the last two days. The ones monitoring the health of his charge were all reading normal, but the one for his presence leaving the wards had gone off. This happened occasionally during the summer, as there had been once or twice when the family went on a trip, but during the school year this particular tracking charm was useless. Since it wasn't the school year, he waited to see where the dot on the map stopped at. He was pleasantly surprised when the dot had stopped in Diagon Alley, but when it stayed there for two nights he became a tad anxious. But it seemed all was well, as the dot had returned home and was where it should be.

He had even received Harry's acceptance letter for his enrollment. He was surprised that the boys relatives didn't need to be forced to let the boy attend, but he supposed there was some simple explanation. It seemed he didn't need to send Hagrid after them to force them to relinquish the boy after all.

He would need to send Hagrid soon to retrieve the package from Gringotts; luckily Severus was almost done with the last of the defenses. All was looking right in the world for Albus Dumbeldore.

* * *

September 1st finally rolled around, and Harry found himself outside King's Cross Station. The amount of people bustling about rivaled the number in Diagon Alley. As he made his way to where Tom said Platform 9 ¾ was, he asked Tom a question that had been on his mind for a while.

'Tom, you've described three versions of wizarding travel that are more efficient than riding a train. Heck, one of them is practically teleporting! Why are we doing something so archaic as riding a locomotive?'

'Honestly,' Tom sighed in reply, 'it's partially because the purebloods want to discriminate against the muggleborn students. While everyone rides the train there and back, pureblood students can easily travel to and from the castle during the year. We get to travel quickly wherever we want to go, but the muggleborns are restricted as they can't make portkeys, usually don't own a Floo, and can only apparate where they've been. It's just another way for purebloods to legally get ahead of everyone else. The less political reason is that it's tradition. Everyone before has always taken the train, so everyone else does as well. Tradition is important to purebloods, even though they often choose to ignore it when it's in their own interest to do so.'

Harry huffed at that, it was yet another form of discrimination in his life. Having been mistreated for as long as he could remember, Harry wasn't surprised anymore when he came across it. One group has power and does its best to keep that power out of the hands of everyone else and keep it for themselves. It made sense to him, and in a way he was sad that he could understand and accept that it was just the way things were. He was entirely too young to be turning cynical, but he had lost his childish innocence and naivety long ago, if he'd ever had it for much time to begin with. It didn't help that a bit of Tom's pragmatism was beginning to bleed over.

A side result of the new routine at the Dursleys' was that Harry was aware of just how valuable power was. Before he met Tom, Harry was abused and miserable. After Tom, Harry had the power to stop his relatives from abusing him, and they didn't know how much power he did or didn't have, meaning they were afraid to find out. Now, he did what he wanted, and actually started to enjoy a few of his chores, finding them relaxing now that the fear of punishment was no longer hanging over his head. His life had improved exponentially with just a little power and the right application of it.

Unfortunately, the entire situation left Harry and Tom with a dilemma; what should they do with their power? Tom was extremely knowledgeable and was good at manipulating people and events, while Harry was, according to Tom, set to become one of the most powerful wizards Britain after Tom put a few years of work into training him. Once they undermined the control that Dumbledore seemed to have over Harry's life, they really didn't have any other goals or aspirations. Crushing their enemies and becoming extremely wealthy were on the list, but those weren't very original. They weren't worried, though, as they had a few years to figure out what they wanted to do.

Harry and Tom finally arrived at the pillar that marked the entrance to Platform 9 ¾, and Harry stepped confidently through. He looked nothing like the small little boy that he had been one month ago. His emancipation had been pushed through quietly, and only a few ministry officials knew about it. It would stay that way until Harry chose otherwise. With his emancipation, Harry was able to get what he needed from the healer. Twice daily doses of growth and nutrient potions fixed his malnutrition, and had effectively added several inches to his height. He was still thin, but it was more wiry than gaunt now. His eyes were fixed, courtesy of another expensive potion, and he had a new pair of glasses that he planned to put various sight enchantments on later. Combined with an all new wardrobe, it all left Harry feeling like he was a new person.

Harry had even grown his hair out a bit, which actually was harder than it sounded. Tom asked Harry when the last time he had a haircut was, and he showed Tom his memory of when his aunt had badly cut his hair, and it regrew to its previous length overnight. Tom immediately recognized the cause, and explained to Harry that he was a partial metamorphmagus. It seemed that Harry was limited to his hair for now, but with some training from a true metamorph he might be able to extend his ability a bit. It took the better part of a week for Harry to get his hair to stop returning to its set length, and after that it was as simple as a hair growth potion and a haircut. His now longer hair covered his scar and couldn't be confused with a bird's nest.

Making his way through the crowd and onto the train, Harry picked an empty compartment mid-way along the train. Hedwig was already on way to the castle, as Harry couldn't walk around in muggle London with her on his shoulder and refused to subject her to a cage, knowing quite well how it felt. Harry placed his school trunk up on the racks, checking that his personal trunk was secure in his pocket. His school trunk had only the items from his supply list and his clothes. His other books and items were in his secure trunk in his pocket. Everything dealt with for now, Harry sat down and pulled the paperback from his back pocket. Harry had practically grown up in the library, reading everything he could get his hands on, while Tom had never had the opportunity and found the experience of reading for enjoyment quite nice.

Harry and Tom were engrossed in a medieval siege when the compartment door opened, revealing a girl with long, bushy hair and buck teeth. She noticed the book in Harry's hands and her eyes lit up.

"Excuse me, would you mind if I sat in here?" she asked.

Harry looked up from his book, and gave her a friendly smile. "Not at all. My name's Harry, nice to meet you."

"Hermione Granger, nice to meet you too," she said with a smile, before dragging her suitcase into the compartment. Harry stood to help her maneuver it into the luggage rack, before sitting down and returning to his book. Hermione sat down across from him, and stated fidgeting and glancing at him. Harry raised his eyebrow at her, causing her to blush and look down sheepishly, before he put his book down.

"Yes?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"Oh, umm, I was just curious what book you were reading, and if you'd read through any of the course books or anything. I've read through all mine, and I've even tried a few spells at home before I came here, and I've read through _Hogwarts: A History_ several times, and-"

Harry held up his hands and cut her off. "Whoa, settle down. I take it you like reading?" She gave a sheepish smile and nodded. "That's cool, I do too. The book I'm currently reading is a medieval adventure novel, fiction. You said you've read through the course books, what did you think of them?"

That paved the way for a discussion about books and magic in general, and lasted for a while. The train had already pulled away from the station before the door opened again, interrupting their conversation. The opening door revealed a pudgy, nervous looking boy standing there.

"H-hi, my name's Neville. You wouldn't have happened to see my toad? His name's Trevor, and I can't find him," the boy said.

"Hi Neville, nice to meet you. I'm Harry, and she's Hermione. As for your toad, have you tried a summoning charm? I read about it, and while it's too much for first years to do, a prefect should be able to help you with one."

Neville slapped himself on the forehead, saying, "Why didn't I think of that? Thanks!"

Harry smiled and replied. "You're welcome. Feel free to come back and sit with us after you find your toad." Neville nodded and left with a wave, and the two remaining in the compartment returned to their conversation.

It didn't last long before the door opened again. Another boy, this time with a head of flaming red hair, stood in the doorway. He looked grubby, with stains on his cloak and with his hair sitting messily on his head. He gave the two a once over before looking at Harry and speaking.

"I've heard Harry Potter is on the train. You wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you?" the boy asked, looking at Harry's forehead. Harry wasn't surprised, but his scar was luckily hidden from someone's first glance. It made going out and about easier when he wasn't mobbed, and constant glamours became tedious. Knowing his identity would get out eventually, Harry replied,

"Yes, my name is Harry Potter. Why have you been looking for me?" His admission had caused Hermione to give a gasp. 'Not surprised,' he thought. 'Avid reader, and I have an entire series dedicated to me.' He turned to Hermione before she could let loose her barrage of questions. "Yes, I'm _that_ Harry Potter, but don't believe anything they've written about me. Almost every single book with my name in it is full of lies, especially the _Harry Potter and the…_ books. Nobody knows anything about the real me, and all those writers will soon be visited by my lawyers to talk about the defamation of character that they've been doing."

That was another item that had been on Harry and Tom's list that month, and after a fruitless search of Diagon Alley for a suitable lawyer, Gringotts recommended one Edward Tonks. He didn't have a lot of business, but that was mostly because he was a muggleborn competing against the pureblood owned businesses. He turned out to be the perfect man for the job, kind but competent, with a sense of humor. Mr. Tonks believed it would take a few months before any progress was made in regards to the books and merchandising, but Harry and Tom agreed that was acceptable in this situation.

"The name's Ron, Ron Weasley, and I was wondering if I could sit with you," the boy in the doorway said, bringing Harry's attention back to the conversation. Hermione looked to be distracted in the midst of an internal struggle, so Harry answered for the both of them.

"Sure, I don't see why not. Nice to meet you Ron; you already know my name, hers is Hermione." Said girl looked over and gave a shy wave, before focusing back on the new conundrum that was Harry Potter.

Hermione couldn't believe what Harry had just told her, he was one of the most famous wizards in Britain! And she had spent the last hour sitting talking to him about books! She'd have been mortified and highly embarrassed if she let her thoughts stay on that point, but she was more focused on what he had said about the books. They were apparently all false! But that was impossible, they had written it in a book, so it had to be true, unless they shelved it in fiction, but these weren't. Did that mean that the books had _lied_ to her? That was akin to sacrilege! She wanted to argue that the books had to be true, but they were about Harry, so it was only logical that he would know if they were really true or not. She was so confused, and she didn't know what to make of anything regarding Harry Potter. Hermione resolved to reread every book that related to Harry, and she would take a second look at everything.

Hermione's awareness returned to the compartment at the same time as Neville returned and, with his toad peeking from his pocket, joined the three in the compartment. Neville was introduced to Ron, and from then on the conversation was mostly one-sided, as Ron was very enthusiastic as he monologued about quidditch and a team called the Chudley Cannons. Harry seemed fine sitting and listening, though he occasionally glanced at Hermione or Neville. Neville looked like he wanted to be a part of the conversation, but was too shy to speak up, while Hermione herself had no interest in the sport and was content to read a book. Harry's book to be precise. He had let her borrow it, almost as if he knew she wouldn't involve herself in Ron's conversation. For some reason, her mental picture of the main character had green eyes and black hair, and it wouldn't change no matter how hard she tried.

Hermione was saved the dilemma of trying to figure out why that was, when suddenly the compartment door flew open yet again, this time revealing a trio of boys. The thin blonde one in front held a sneer on his face as he looked at the occupants, and the other two just stood there behind their leader, obviously the muscle. Blondie looked between Hermione, Ron, and Neville, before his eyes came to rest on Harry.

"I've heard that Potter was in this train. Are you him?" he asked. Harry gave a slight nod and raised a brow, waiting for him to continue. The boy stuck out his hand. "My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. You'll find that some wizarding families are better than others," he said, giving the compartment's other occupants a sneer. "I can help you with finding the right sorts." Harry was about to respond when Ron jumped up and shouted back at Malfoy,

"He doesn't need any help from you, you slimy snake!" Before Ron could add anything to that, Harry stood up and clamped a hand on Ron's shoulder before forcefully returning him to his seat. Harry turned his head to look at Ron and spoke in a low, clear voice.

"Ron, was Draco speaking to you?"

"No, but he-"

"No, he wasn't. He was speaking to me. Are you my parent?" A confused Ron shook his head. "Are you my Head of House?" he shook his head no again. "Then what gives you the right to speak for me?"

"I'm your best mate!" Ron argued. Harry was utterly confused by that, as he could think of no way in which he had acted that would give Ron the idea that he was his 'best mate'.

"Ron, I have known you less than a day, so there is no way you can be my 'best mate'. Besides, my best mate would know whether or not I wanted him to speak for me. Since you are _not_ my best mate, kindly stay out of the conversation between Draco and myself." Having adequately told off Ron, Harry turned back to Malfoy. "I wouldn't mind continuing this conversation, but it seems to be a poor idea in present company. Perhaps sometime later?" Harry said as he stuck out his hand.

Malfoy, who had dropped his hand when Potter had turned to deal with Weasley, confidently took Harry's hand and shook it. After the trio outside the doors had left, Harry closed the door and returned to his seat. While Hermione returned to her book and Neville started up a conversation on pureblood politics with Harry, Ron seemed to be trying to glare a hole through Harry's forehead for the rest of the ride.


	6. Chapter 6: Storming the Castle

Obligatory Disclaimer – I don't own Harry Potter; wish I did.

AN: Sorry for the wait, it's been a busy time for me. Enlisted in the Army and ship for Basic in a month, and have been messing around with ideas for other fanfics recently.

* * *

Chapter 6- Storming the Castle

Ron had managed to stare angrily at Harry for the rest of the way to Hogsmeade, something that was both impressive and a bit disturbing. Ron seemed to have a prejudice against Slytherins and children of Slytherins. The fact that many of the current members of that house were the children of Death Eaters may have contributed to that, but Ron seemed to ignore the fact that not _all_ Slytherins were "evil slimy snakes". Harry was already leaning towards not getting too chummy with Ron if his current behavior was any indication of the rest of his personality.

After robing up and disembarking, Harry and co. were marched down to the waterfront by a large man who introduced himself as Hagrid. A short trip across the lake and a slight wait in an antechamber, and the Sorting Feast was about to begin. After McGonagall gave them a brief lecture about how 'your house is your family', the massive doors were opened and they filed in.

Harry surreptitiously scanned the hall while he entered. The students looked eager, and several seemed nervous. A glance at the staff table showed mostly stoic faces from the Hogwarts professors, but a few like Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey were giving the new arrivals warm smiles. Finally, Harry turned his attention to the ceiling, taking in the spectacle of the night outside being on the inside.

"Hey Hermione," Harry spoke, as said girl turned her attention to him. "Do you remember seeing anywhere in _Hogwarts: A History_ how exactly they got the ceiling to look like that?"

"Not particularly. I suppose it's some very complicated and advanced charmswork, since the ceiling is supposed to be in sync with the weather outside," came the reply. "Why?" she asked.

"Oh, nothing really. I just had the thought of maybe doing that to the ceiling of my room." Well, his new room anyway. He didn't plan on returning to the Dursleys, and he and Tom were already going through apartment listings for Diagon Alley. His answer seemed to have sent Hermione into 'think' mode, because she didn't reply and he turned to her to find her eyebrows tilted down and her eyes unfocussed. He was worried that she wouldn't notice her name being called, but she seemed to have heard, and her expression changed to show a hint of nervousness as she approached the front of the hall.

The hat's shout of 'Gryffindor!' had him thinking a bit. He would have honestly placed her in Ravenclaw if it were up to him, but then again, she could be doing the same thing as him and keeping a part of herself hidden. He'd keep an eye out. His musing was cut short when his name was called, and it sent whispers running throughout the room.

'That's really going to get old,' he thought to Tom.

'I agree. But there's not much we can do about it. Remember what I said about the hat reading your memories to sort you, so try not to let slip that I'm here. I've managed to kind of cloud the last two months' worth of memories and hide myself behind them, so there shouldn't be anything to give us away. I've no idea if Dumbledore can get anything from the hat, but better safe than sorry.'

Harry gave a mental nod at that and finally reached the stool with the hat. Sitting down and pulling the overly wide brim down upon his head, Harry heard yet another voice in his head.

'Ah, yes, quite an interesting one you are,' came the hat's voice. 'Not really leaning towards any house, so I could put you in a number of places. For one, you would do well in Slytherin.'

'Not Slytherin,' he thought back.

'Not Slytherin? Why not? You'd fit very well there. I can sense a certain potential in you, and you could become great while in that house.'

'Not Slytherin,' Harry repeated, 'because it would be a horrible disadvantage to me. Most students have a biased hate towards the house of the cunning which, while mostly deserved, would severely limit my opportunities with members of the other houses. No, putting me in Slytherin would be a waste. Gryffindor is where I'm going. Nobody expects a snake in the lion's den.'

'Oh, I see. You're pretty set on this aren't you? But you don't really have a say in it. I can still put you in Slytherin if I want.'

'And why would you do that?' Harry fired back. 'You have the perfect opportunity to help me pull one over on the entire castle. Don't tell me you've never wanted to prank someone?'

'… You know, it _is_ a tad boring doing nothing but sorting students all the time. Pulling a prank or two might help break the monotony. All right, Gryffindor you said? Why not.'

'Thanks!' Harry said as he heard the hat shout out the name of his new house. He removed the hat from his head to see a pair of tall redheads jumping and shouting "We got Potter! We got Potter!". Harry idly wondered if they were related to the only other redhead he had met so far. Harry made his way over and plopped himself down between Neville and Hermione, who appeared to have been saving him a seat. Harry once more gave a glance about the massive room, and took note of two things. First, Draco Malfoy had a rather disappointed look on his face, and the man in the purple turban was eyeing him in a weird way. He took note of that for future reference.

* * *

The first few weeks of life at Hogwarts had already blown by. Not really much had happened. The first week of classes was mainly learning the layout, but Harry had help as Tom talked him through the ever changing maze that is Hogwarts. Flying lessons went awry as Neville messed up his wrist. Draco almost got Neville's remembrall, but Harry did a quick _accio_ and snagged it first. Draco had sneered, but didn't press the issue. Ron had tried to pull Harry along into a duel with Malfoy at midnight, but Harry managed to slip out of it and explained that Malfoy wouldn't even show up, as that was the Slytherin thing to do, while showing up and getting detention was the Gryffindorish method. He was proven right when Ron promptly showed up alone at midnight and earned a detention. Hermione seemed pleased that Harry wasn't goaded into doing foolish things as easily as Ron was.

Harry spent most of his time in the company of Hermione, Neville and Ron when outside of class. Ron never seemed to want to study and was always trying to get Harry to slack off, but Harry really didn't see the point. He had things to do and playing wizard's chess or exploding snap weren't going to help him. As a result, he and Neville often accompanied Hermione to the library, while Ron was slowly getting more annoying and acting ruder to Hermione as time went on. It came to a head on Halloween, after the charms class where they had been working on the levitation spell.

"… a nightmare. No wonder she hasn't got any friends!" Ron said unquietly. Hermione heard and ran off crying before Harry or Neville could do anything about it. Harry turned to Ron and gave him a hard look.

"Ron, let me be clear. You're annoying and rude, and despite being my self-appointed 'best mate', I don't really like you. You're getting on my nerves and I honestly don't feel like hanging out with you much more. When you can grow up a bit and learn some politeness, I may change my mind, but for now, you'll need to find someone else to hang around," he said, and then promptly turned around and walked off. Neville followed after without a backward glance at Ron.

Harry was worried for a while, but eventually one of the Gryffindor girls, Parvati, managed to find Hermione in the bathroom crying. Hermione wanted to be left alone, so Harry decided to save her a few things from the feast to bring back to the common room for her. He had just tucked the small bundle of food wrapped in napkins inside his schoolbag when the hall doors flew open and the defense professor, Professor Quirrell, wobbled into the room.

"Troll! Troll, in the dungeons!" he shouted. "Thought you ought to know." Then he collapsed. Utter chaos followed, with Dumbledore shouting for silence and for the prefects to escort their houses to their dormitories. Harry, though, had more pressing matters on his mind. Hermione, his first sorta-friend, was unaware that a troll was wandering about in the castle. Harry gave a mental nudge to wake up Tom, and then stood and filed off with the rest of Gryffindor. Right when they came around the corner after leaving the great hall, Harry cast a notice-me-not charm over himself. It was one of his and Tom's first projects. It was rather simple once you got the hang of it, and its simplicity meant it was usually overlooked by most wizards. But to Harry and Tom, it had a plethora of uses, like hiding the head of house ring on his finger. This instance was another use, as he raced down the hall towards the ground floor's girls' restroom.

His main wand slid out of its holster and into his hand as he ran. He arrived in sight of the girls' restroom just in time to see the mountain troll shuffle through the low ceilinged doorway. He heard a scream and a crash as he careened around the corner and entered the room. He spotted Hermione scrambling away on her hands and knees as the troll raised its club from the remains of a sink, and prepared to bring it down again. A quick _accio_ on Hermione pulled her out of the way of the club, and she collided with Harry's chest. Useful thing that, the summoning charm. Harry caught her in a semi-bridal carry hug, and quickly placed her on her feet behind him. He followed up with a levitation charm on some of the rubble and banished it at the troll's face. While it was distracted, he cast another levitation charm, this time on the club, and cut it off when the club was above the troll's head. A rather loud 'thunk' preceded the troll falling face-first onto the ground.

Harry turned to Hermione and gave her the universal 'shush' gesture, then grabbed her hand and cast a notice-me-not on the two of them. They managed to slip out of the restroom just before a small collection of staff members entered. Harry led Hermione by the hand up to the Gryffindor dorms, where he had to break the charm to give the password to the portrait, then quickly recast the charm and escorted her into the center of the room. He sat her down on the couch before lifting the charm they were under. Hermione was about to start firing off questions at Harry when Neville and Ron came running up to them.

"Blimey Harry, where were you?!" Neville asked. "We've been looking all over for you. Had us worried that the troll got you or something." Again, Hermione was about to speak, but Harry gave her a slight shake of the head before turning to the two.

"Nah, I went to get Hermione and warn her about the troll. I caught her coming back from the restroom and we spotted the troll in the hall. We had to take a long way around to get back." Harry's lie came smoothly and the two boys merely nodded and didn't question further. Harry got out the small bundle of food he had prepared for Hermione, merely a few sandwiches and a cookie, and gave it to her. She gave a soft smile at him and gave a quiet "thanks", though her eyes were telling him that she wanted answers for his actions earlier. His nod informed her he understood, and she settled down to eat.

Ron looked like he was going to comment, but Harry gave him a warning look and he backed off.

* * *

The next day in the back of the library, Harry sat down across from Hermione as they got out their homework. Before she could get a word out, Harry held up a finger and told her to wait. He cast another notice me not, this time on the area around themselves and their table. It was a little harder to get right because of the bigger volume of space that he was hiding, but he managed it. He replaced his wand and gave her a nod.

Hermione was about to speak in a rush, but she mentally restrained herself and calmly asked her questions one at a time.

"How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Harry asked back. "The spell or the deal with the troll?"

"The troll. Though the spell is my next question. How did you, a first year, beat a fully grown mountain troll? I admit that you're smart, heck almost as smart as me," she winced at the phrasing, it kind of came off superior and made her look bad, but Harry didn't comment, just kept a small smile on his lips. "but still, how'd you do it so easily?"

"Like you said, rather easily," he replied. "All three spells I used were simple ones. I admit, the summoning and banishing charms are rather higher leveled and usually third or fourth year, but the levitation charm is one we learned yesterday morning. The troll was slow and rather dim, and had no idea that I was capable of smacking him down with his own club. It was mostly surprise mixed with proper spell usage. Yes, you could probably try hitting it with cutting or blasting curses, but trolls have strong magic resistance. Hit it on the head hard enough, though, and you can still knock it out."

Hermione nodded, he made it sound rather simple and easy when he put it that way. And when she thought about it, it actually _was_ a simple matter of hitting it really hard on the head. "Next question," she said, "what was that other spell you did? The one just now was the same one you used last night that apparently made nobody see us."

"Oh, they saw us," he replied, "they just didn't _notice_ us. It's called the notice-me-not charm. Another spell with a simple concept. It simply makes people overlook what's going on. Since we weren't directly interacting with them, their eyes swept right past us and they didn't register we were there. And since we didn't make any real noise, the charm did the same for their hearing. Light sounds like footsteps or breathing are covered usually, unless they've got really good hearing, like a wolf or guard dog. But if you make too much noise, they can't ignore you and the charm fails. Things that can see through illusions and enchantments can still pick you up, though."

"Okay, next, why did you lie to Neville and Ron?"

"Easy, because then it wouldn't be a secret anymore. I made sure we weren't seen on the way back because I don't want anyone knowing I beat the troll. It would focus attention on me. And Ron is an attention seeker. You can tell by the way he goads and argues with Malfoy, and how he's always trying to brag about things. If I told him, it would find its way around the school by the end of the week, how he was best friends with the 'boy-who-lived', and that I stopped the troll. I'm trying to fly under the radar. It's a lot easier to get things done that way."

"Last question. Why?"

"Why what? Why am I trying to stay under the radar?"

"No," she cut him off, "why did you save me? Why did you risk yourself to save a know-it-all bookworm like me?" she asked, a hint of something in her voice that Harry couldn't tell what it was.

"Because that's what friends do." Harry stated simply, as if that answered everything. And to him, it did. Hermione was his first friend, and she had been in danger, so he saved her. To him, it didn't warrant anymore thought. Yes, he had to cover up his actions and that had required a small bit of effort, but that didn't matter.

Hermione nodded again, with a growing smile this time, and it seemed she had acceptable answers to her questions, because they got started on their homework after that. Hermione didn't bring the subject up again, but Harry did catch her stealing a glance or two at him every now and then. And Hermione seemed to stay a little more firmly by his side when they were walking between classes.

* * *

A few weeks later, the four Gryffindors, Ron had somewhat apologized to Hermione and was on social probation with Harry, were approached by Malfoy and his goons as they walked towards astronomy class. Before any insults could be thrown, Harry turned to his friends and bid them to head on to class, and he would sort this out and catch up with them. Neville seemed resigned and Hermione seemed unsure, but she nodded and dragged the other two off, leaving Harry across from Draco, Crabbe and Goyle.

"So Potter," Malfoy sneered, "sending your little friends off so they don't see you get humiliated or something?"

"Quite the opposite actually," he replied, looking Draco in the eyes. "Ron is rather biased about the house system, and he would make a mess of this conversation. I'll be blunt, you're a terrible Slytherin." Draco sputtered for a second, but he couldn't get a word out, and Harry continued. "You're a terrible Slytherin because you have no subtlety and your plans show no cunning. The only person you're really able to get one over on is Ron, and he's rather dull and hotheaded. And while I know we never had the chance to finish our conversation from the train because we got sorted into different houses, you should know that it doesn't matter what house we are."

"And why not?" asked Draco, with more curiosity and not as much sneering as before.

"Because I don't care," Harry said. "I don't care that you're in Slytherin, or a so called 'slimy snake'. Your house doesn't matter to me, and neither do anyone else's houses matter to me. I'll get to know people from other houses regardless of rivalries or social norms. I've already met Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott through Neville, since he knew them growing up. And Parvati's sister Padma is in Ravenclaw. House divides shouldn't limit our social circles. But anyway, back to the point of this conversation. I get that in public, you need to be the 'evil Slytherin' and I need to be the 'Gryffindor Golden Boy', but away from the public eye, we don't really need to be antagonistic to one another." Harry turned to go, and started to walk away, but he stopped a short way off and called over to Draco.

"Oh, and one more thing," he said, turning to face Draco. "Just remember, nobody expects a snake in the lion's den," he said, as he used a glamour to change his robe's colors for a moment. Draco and his escort merely looked on in shocked surprise as Harry's robes pulsed green and silver for a moment, before returning to their original colors or red and gold. Harry gave the three snakes a jaunty wave as he went down the hallway towards astronomy class and his friends.

Draco stood there for a moment longer, his brain trying to catch up with what he was pretty sure hadn't been his imagination, before he remembered that he had class to get to as well and headed off with his two hanger-ons behind him.

* * *

As Harry pulled open the astronomy door and walked over to his seat next to Hermione, he sent a message to Tom.

'Thanks again for the help with that speech. It should end up making things with Malfoy interesting to say the least.'

'No problem,' Tom replied. 'I do think it's rather a shame my old house has fallen so far that the best candidate for it made it into Gryffindor. But I suppose you are right about hiding amongst the lions. At least there's a few good ones, and not all of them are mindless sheep.' And with that thought, class began and Tom settled down to sleep again in the back of Harry's mind.


End file.
